


The Memory of Feeling

by sciencefictioness



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Eren's A Little Crazy, Fluff (eventually), I Killed Levi and Mikasa, I Made Myself Cry, I'm so sorry, It Gets Better, Loss, M/M, Moving On, Past Levi/Eren Yeager, Sorry Ackermans, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4553052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencefictioness/pseuds/sciencefictioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When  his parents and Mikasa die in a car wreck at the age of twelve, Eren is lost and lonely, until he meets Levi.  After being together for eight years, he loses Levi to cancer and is thoroughly broken.  He sees Levi everywhere, talks to him, argues with him, and even if he knows its not real Eren doesn't truly want him to disappear.  If it means he's sick, he doesn't want to get better.  A year after Levi's death he gets a letter from him, written before he passed.  Levi wants Eren to move on, go back to school, move out of their house, and make something of his life.  Find someone else.  Try to be happy.  So Eren packs his bags, goes back to school, and tries to put the pieces back together.  Wonders if it's possible, since there will always be one missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ghost

Eren ran his hands over the letters engraved in the stone. They weren't real unless he touched them, unless me felt them beneath his fingertips. He wondered how long it would take him to wear those letters down. As many times as he had come here, he was surprised they weren't already fading under his endless assault.

_Levi Ackerman_  
_'No Regrets'_

It was dated exactly one year ago, and even though Eren had visited Levi's grave countless times since then, it felt like yesterday that he watched them lower his lover into the ground. He didn't bring flowers every time, but on the first anniversary of Levi's death, it seemed appropriate. Just to piss him off, if nothing else.

"Those flowers are fucking hideous." Eren grinned before he even looked up.

"Just like you."

"I'm impressed with your tiny brain, kid."

Eren looked over to where Levi was perched on his own tombstone, smirk etched into his features. He'd sort of figured he might see him today, especially if he came here. Eren smiled at Levi, tears in his eyes. Of course it wasn't really Levi, and Eren knew it. It was his own broken mind creating something out of nothing, pulling what he wanted most in the whole world out of the recesses of his memory and letting it take form. Eren didn't need anyone to tell him that he was sick. He knew already. _Christ,_ he knew.

"I can't even visit your grave without you insulting me?" Levi laughed, crossing one ankle over his knee. There was nothing ghostly about him, not fading and see through. He was not an apparition. Levi was solid, so real that Eren sometimes had to lean to the side to see around him. Yet if he reached out to touch him, there was nothing but air.

"You're insulting yourself. I'm just surprised that you can be at my grave and still manage to see me like this. I'm worried about you." 

Which meant that Eren was starting to frighten himself with just how fucked up he was inside. _Shit._

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're fucking awful."

He was right. A year later and it didn't hurt any less. It's not like he expected it to all get magically better one day. Eren didn't want to forget about Levi. He'd been Eren's entire world for eight years, and a fraction of that time was not going to erase the ache he felt inside. The brunette had just turned twenty when Levi found out he was sick, and the cancer took him so fast it was frightening. Eren had buried his parents, his sister.

Now Levi.

Every day Eren woke up in the morning and worked up the willpower to climb out of the bed he'd shared with his lover. Walked through hallways that were eternally empty, no matter who else was there. Because Levi was gone, and he would never wake up to feel those cool fingers threading through his hair. Never go to sleep with those strong arms wrapped around him, Levi's face buried in his chest. Never touch his pale skin, never kiss those perfect lips.

But Eren heard his voice, even if it was figment of his imagination. A week had passed since Levi's funeral, and when it first happened he'd been sitting in their bathtub with a gun to his head. Ready to chase Levi into the afterlife. Whatever there was, heaven or hell, it didn't matter. As long as Levi was there. Then that wry, sardonic voice had broken through the silence, and sitting in the tub across from him was Levi, looking at him disapprovingly. _'Oi! What do you think you're doing, you shitty brat? Put that fucking thing down. Are you stupid?'_

Whenever Eren was being pulled deep into his own misery, his dead lover was there. Tossing out encouragement veiled with insults, just as he had in life. Keeping Eren's head above water, just barely, as he trudged his way through each day. He didn't need to work, not after the inheritances he got both from his family and from Levi, but Eren had to do something. After trying and failing to keep a job in retail as well as an office, he realized he was never going to be able to do something that required him to deal with people. Eren had a short fuse, even shorter now that Levi was gone, and at the first sign of hostility he snapped, whether it was at a customer or a coworker. Finally one of Armin's friends got him a job building houses, and it was perfect. Physically demanding enough that he did not have a chance to think, just threw himself into the work mindlessly. During the summer he'd been sure he would pass out from heat exhaustion, but it was less miserable now that late fall had come, winter just around the corner. He donated his paychecks to cancer charities in Levi's name. 

The sun was going to set soon, and Eren needed to get home to shower and crawl in bed. He didn't have to work the next day but Armin had invited him over, and he didn't come the blonde would just drag him there by force. When he left the graveyard Levi stayed where he was, sitting atop his gravestone and looking at Eren with a sad expression. 

Even if he wasn't real, it still hurt to turn away.

When he got home, Erwin Smith was sitting on the top step of his porch. He was leaning against a post, and it looked as though he'd been there awhile. Eren cringed as he walked up towards his house. Erwin had been friends with Levi's family, and he was the attorney who handled his estate when he passed away. He and Eren went out to eat from time to time, stayed in touch, but if the attorney was here on the anniversary of Levi's death, there was no good reason for it. Erwin gave a half smile, holding out an an envelope with Eren's name on it. The handwriting was so familiar that his chest started to hurt. It was Levi's writing.

"I'm sorry about this, Eren. He wrote you this before he passed away, to be delivered a year after his death, under certain circumstances. I wasn't allowed to tell you. You want me to stay here while you read it, or would it be better if I go? Or I could bring it back some other time. You don't have to take it today." Eren took the letter with shaking hands as though Erwin would snatch it away, and it was suddenly hard to breathe. It felt like he was holding a piece of Levi between his fingers. Pulled from the past. This was no phantom or trick of his mind. It was real. Here. Now. If it had been anyone else, besides maybe Armin, he would've told them to leave. But Erwin knew how it felt. He'd lost Levi, too.

"S-Stay. Please. I don't want to be alone." Eren tore the envelope open, careful not to damage his name on the outside. If he didn't read it right then, he would lose his nerve. When he saw Levi's words spread out across the page, he felt tears spilling from his eyes.

_Eren. Stop crying. Your face gets all snotty and gross, it's seriously unattractive._

Eren had to let out a bark of dark laughter, wiping at his face before he continued reading.

_I know if you're reading this I'm gone, and I'm so sorry for that. You know I'd have done anything it took to stay beside you forever. But it's been a year, and if Captain Eyebrows is giving you this, it means you're still a mess. I love you, and I know you love me, but you need to keep living. So here's what I want you to do. I want you to move out of our house and go live with Armin. You don't have to sell the house, but don't keep coming back and loitering around all melancholy and shit. Go back to school and finish getting your degree. I know you don't need the money, but how long has it been since you drew, or painted, or anything? Become an artist like you always wanted to be. Get disgustingly rich and donate all your money to the cancer charities. I know you can do it, you're so talented Eren, and the thought of you wasting all that because of me makes me feel sick inside. I don't want you to be miserable, trudging through life with memories of me dragging you down. Don't forget me, just let me make you strong instead of weak. Right now, go draw something. Anything. If it's me, that's fine, but then draw us. Then just you. Then something else, someone else. You have enough pictures of me, love. Go forward, not backwards. And know that it's okay to find someone, to fall for someone. It doesn't need to be some whirlwind epic romance. Just someone who treats you right, and makes you smile. If they hurt you, I will haunt them from the afterlife like a god damned poltergeist, bloody walls and broken mirrors and shit, so don't worry. Armin got a letter from me, too, so go see him, and move your shit in. If he's in a dorm, fuck it, he'll move, dorms are miserable hell holes anyway. Register for school next semester, wherever Armin is going right now. You can do anything, Eren Ackerman. Know that I am so proud of you, every step of the way. I love you, I'll always love you, beautiful. And you can love me, and still move on. Love, Levi. xoxo_

Eren didn't know when he fell to his knees, but Erwin's arms were around him as he shook, fresh tears falling from his eyes. He leaned into the blonde, clutching Levi's words to his chest as sobs wracked him, fingering the wedding ring on his left hand. God, Levi had been sick, been dying, and instead of worrying about himself he'd been worried about Eren. Knew the brunet would be lost without him. Eren looked around, half expecting his mind to call Levi out of nothingness, but he was nowhere to be seen. It was a long time before he could calm down, but that ache in his chest was fierce and unyielding.

"You okay, Eren?" Eren shook his head, no, he was far from okay. Erwin was about to speak again, and he cut the blonde off.

"I'm really not, but I'm gonna be. One day."


	2. Drawn

Jean unlocked the door with a sigh, grateful down to his bones that he already had a bed set up here, sheets and pillows and everything.  _God bless you, Armin._   It had not taken much convincing on Armin's part before he agreed to move in with him and Eren, even if he did not know the other guy all that well.  Eren was always quiet, kept to himself, didn't come around much.  When Jean mentioned something about Eren being mellow, and therefore probably easy to live with, Armin looked incredibly sad.  He knew Eren had lost his husband to cancer a year before, but not much else about him.  It did not matter, really.

Jean had shared a dorm with Armin for an entire semester, and that was more than enough for him to know living with his friend would be much better than living in student housing.  Most of his belongings were already there, though he remained in the dorm the last few weeks of school and this would be the first time he stayed at their new place.  Armin and Eren had been there for the past week, and Jean hoped they'd settled in already.  Dishes put away, everything unpacked besides Jean's own belongings.  _Jesus, let everything be unpacked._   The rest of his bags were in the backseat of his car, but he could not be assed to get them out right now.  Exams were over, the semester was done for, and Jean was fucking exhausted.  He needed a nap, and probably some coffee before he could even think about functioning.

It had been a few days since he'd been by, and Jean could tell the house was more lived in.  There was a pair of shoes kicked off by the door, not Armin's for sure.  A sketchbook sat out on the coffee table, Eren's no doubt, a portrait of someone Jean did not recognize etched roughly into the pages.  Messy, the lines not yet cleaned, but it was evident that he was talented.  Jean found himself staring at the image, and was about to reach out and flip through the pages before he caught himself.  He did not know how Eren felt about people looking at his art, but it seemed shitty to go through it without permission.  They would be living together.  It would be a great fucking start to violate Eren's privacy right off the bat.  

Jean headed towards Armin's room, expecting him to be awake.  He was usually up at the crack of dawn, for no apparent reason.  Jean called out to him as he stepped into his doorway, only to have the word die out on his lips.

"Hey Arm-"

Jean froze, stopping short at the sight in front of him.  Armin was still asleep, but that was not the surprising part.  He was curled up around Eren, face buried in wild brown locks, his pale skin contrasting against his friend's darker tone.  _Friend...._   They did not look like friends, wrapped together in sleep that way. Armin spooning behind Eren despite being so much smaller, clinging protectively. It was only when Jean let his gaze wander down that it met with bright green eyes. Staring back at him, blinking sleepily, and Jean began to stutter out an apology as Eren extricated himself from Armin's clutches. He sat on the edge of the bed rubbing at his face blearily, and Jean hated himself for being distracted by all that tanned flesh. _He's obviously with Armin, you fuck, get your head straight._

"O-oh, I- S-sorry, I didn't mean to uh... intrude, or something. The door was open." It seemed like such a private moment, and he felt like an asshole for barging in. Eren just furrowed his brows, looking at Jean like he was an idiot.

"Intrude on what?" Jean made a stupid noise, swallowing a couple of times before answering.

"Ah, you and Armin and... Just, sorry. I didn't know you two were... a thing, or whatever." He was backing up, trying to retreat, but Eren just stood up and brushed past him, a strange expression on his face. Ruffling his hand through that crazy hair, going into the room across the hall.

"We're not 'a thing'. Just friends." Jean followed him into his room without meaning to, body on autopilot. _Just friends, eh?_ They looked pretty fucking cozy for 'just friends', and Jean found himself wanting to ask about it. Didn't want to be an asshole, but then he was speaking anyway.

"Okay. You just seem pretty close." 

Now that he was in Eren's room, his eyes were wandering. There were paintings and drawings _everywhere,_ in oil paint and watercolors and pastels, charcoal and pencil and ink. All stacked against the wall, layered over one another, piled up on his desk as though he had not sorted out just which ones he wanted to hang. Every single one of them of the same person. He wore different clothes, different expressions, stood in varied locations, but it was the same man. The one that had been sketched out on the notebook in the living room. Dark hair, and gray eyes, and _ooooh, fuck._ It had to be his husband, didn't it? He glanced over to find Eren looking at him with a fairly vicious expression, lips pursed in a way that seemed angry somehow. Jean could not really blame him. He'd come in uninvited, stared at all the guy's artwork without permission. Artwork of his dead husband, at that. _This is all going so well._

"Are you done?" _Fuck. Shit._

"Y-yeah, sorry. I'll uh- go. Now."

He fled quickly, not surprised when the door slammed shut behind him. Jean turned towards his own room, only to freeze at the sound of Eren's voice.

"Did I fucking ask you?" Ask him what? He was about to respond when Eren continued. "Oh, shut up. You're not helpful." 

_What the fuck?_

Jean closed himself inside his room, as though the door would protect him from his own stupidity. Crawled into his bed with a sigh, covering his face with his hands.

Less than ten minutes in his new house, and Eren probably already hated him. _Awesome, Jean. Good job. Excellent work._ He was not only Jean's roommate but Armin's best friend. Jean always got along with Eren, the few occasions they'd spent any time together. It was hard to clash with someone who was subdued and quiet and looked so fucking lost all the time. Now that he'd seen those pictures, it was not hard to figure out why.

When he closed his lids, stark gray eyes stared back at him. Jean felt like they were asking him a question. 

What it was, he could not say.


	3. Stolen

He never would have moved in with Armin on his own, but now that he had, Eren was grateful.  Just having someone else in the same house was therapeutic in ways Eren had not anticipated, the sounds of their voices and the evidence they left behind in their absence calming somehow.  Jackets laid in random places, keys and wallets on the coffee table, dishes in the sink.  Signs of life, evidence that Eren was not there all alone.  It made things easier at first, the days passing by more quickly than he'd imagined possible, and part of him wondered if being near other people would help him all by itself, if only a little.  He'd applied to attend university with Armin the next semester, though it was too soon to register for his classes yet, and Armin not allow him to take any online.

_The whole point is to get you out of the damn house, Eren._

Eren could not argue with his logic, no matter how offensive the idea of interacting with people was to him.  Somewhere in between when Levi first fell sick and the present, Eren had lost every single ounce of patience he possessed, especially when dealing with people he did not know.  The slightest things could set him off, and he'd gone through a half dozen jobs before realizing he was not going to be able to interact with strangers successfully.  Now Armin expected him to go to school and attend class with dozens of students he'd never met, and Eren wasn't sure be was capable of it, really.  Only by reminding himself that it was what Levi wanted for him kept Eren going, and he'd been filling canvases and pages of his sketchbook like crazy.  After Levi had passed, he painted and drew like a maniac, desperate to will his image into the blank spaces before him.  Wanted to remember not how he looked in pictures, but how he felt in Eren's mind.  Those expressions that could not be captured by a lens, soft and private and unknown to everyone but him.  One day there would be years spread out between him and Levi.  Decades.  A lifetime.  He did not want to struggle to recall just how those dark strands fell into Levi's eyes, or the gentle curve of his smile.  So Eren brushed it into canvas again and again, and soon their rooms had been filled with Levi in the most hollow way possible.

After a few months though Eren's drive vanished, and he put down his brushes and pencils altogether.  Only after getting Levi's letter had he picked them up again, and now it was hard to stop.  When Eren was alone at the house, he could not _be still,_   could not slow down without falling into depression.  So he cleaned their place compulsively, and filled canvases so fast he was running out of places to put them.  Their old house had become little more than a place to store his overflow, though Armin was always the one to take the paintings there.  He did not want Eren 'lurking around' for hours in those empty walls, and he yielded to almost everything Armin asked of him, because he owed the boy his sanity.

They slept together every night, Armin curled up around him, Eren nuzzled into his chest.  There was nothing sexual about it, no romantic attraction, but Eren felt at home in his arms.  The warmth of another person was soothing, Armin's steady breathing lulling him to sleep.  Eren had not rested this well in over a year, had not realized just how important it had been to sleep in the same bed with someone else.  He'd been with Levi so long he'd forgotten what it was to be alone, and when Eren was left behind, the emptiness had been visceral.  He was so grateful to crawl underneath those blankets with Armin each night, Eren could taste it in his mouth.  When Armin had a night shift at the hospital where he was working over the holidays, Eren did not sleep.  Stayed awake for however long Armin was gone, waiting for his friend return so he could manage to close his eyes without nightmares plaguing him.  He never appreciated Armin enough until Levi was gone, and sometimes Eren hated himself for it.  Spending so much time with him was a blessing.

Jean was another story entirely.  Eren got along with him well enough, though the guy was a complete slob, at least according to Eren's standards.  Standards that had been imparted to him by Levi over the years, and were now impossible for almost anyone to live up to, and Jean was no exception.  Dirty socks in the living room floor, dishes left on the coffee table, trash next to his bed.  It made Eren's eye twitch at first, but after a couple of weeks, he grew accustomed to the passive sort of filthiness that followed Jean around the house.  Eren could deal with it and not go totally crazy.

No, it was more the glances he caught from Jean out of the corner of his eyes that bothered Eren, though not necessarily in a bad way.  It felt like Jean was always looking when he thought Eren wouldn't notice, gaze darting away when he tried to meet his stare.  They hung out together more than Eren had expected, even when Armin was not there, whiling away hours playing video games mostly.  Jean was impressively vocal, shouting profanities at the enemies on screen.  He played with his entire body, holding the controller and leaning this way and that, as though it would help his car make a turn, or his character see around a corner.  Eren watched him bite his lip and squint as he aimed his crosshairs at a faraway opponent, head cocked to side _just so_ when he finally fired.  It was stupidly endearing, and one of many things Jean did that brought a smile to Eren's face.

Jean made loud noises of appreciation when he ate something particularly delicious.  He whined like a puppy when Armin forced him to watch shitty romance movies.  Chewed on the strings of his hoodies absently, which should be disgusting, but wasn't for some reason.  Sent snaps of his mother's dog to Armin when he went to visit her.  Drank _wine coolers,_ uncaring of all the shit Eren gave him for it.

_They taste good, fuck you, Eren._

He was an affectionate drunk, which mostly translated to him harassing Armin a lot, though when Jean was really wasted at the housewarming party they had a week after moving in he kept ruffling Eren's hair.  Letting long fingers linger in the strands, brushing it back from Eren's face, and he wanted to play it off as just how Jean behaved when he got trashed.  But Jean didn't play with anyone else's hair, or look at them with lost eyes , and it made Eren feel strange inside.  He shoved the feelings down and ignored them, and Jean didn't seem to think anything of it the next day.  

Everything was going well, but Eren should have known better than to expect Christmas to pass quietly on his part.  His roommates both swore they'd be home Christmas Eve.  Armin's shift ended early at the hospital, and Jean's mother was going out of town to visit her siblings, so they'd celebrated early that day before her departure.  

But on the eve of Levi's birthday, Eren found himself alone as the hours ticked by, darkness looming deep outside the windows.  He'd promised Armin he wouldn't go anywhere by himself that day, but as the bottle of whiskey he nursed slowly swam through his bloodstream, Eren couldn't remember why.  Once it was mostly empty, the world fuzzy around him, Eren called a taxi to come get him.  Levi's birthday was in a few hours, and Eren would be there for him.

He hadn't missed a birthday yet, and maybe Levi was dead, but Eren was so broken that it didn't matter.  He could still wish him happy birthday, and Eren slurred out the cemetery's address to the cab driver, the taste of whiskey still in his mouth.

..................................................................

 

The house was empty when Jean opened the door, which was strange considering Eren's car had been parked outside.  There was a bottle of whiskey on the coffee table with a couple of shots left, and Jean frowned at it, unsure where it came from.  They didn't usually keep whiskey in the house.  He called out to Eren, peeking his head in Armin's room first, then Eren's.  Jean had finally been allowed entry into Eren's room again, even permitted to look through the art stacked around the walls as long as he did not open the boy's sketchbook.  Anything set out was fair game, and he often found himself looking through the canvases Eren painted, flipping over the loose drawings left on his art table, in awe of his skill.  Jean was a photographer, he could capture an image perfectly, freeze it in time.  But he couldn't _create_ like that, and Jean spent more time than he'd like to admit in Eren's room, staring at his work.  More than once he'd been forced to flee, the sound of his roommate's keys rattling in the front door urging him to escape before he was noticed.  

It was bad enough he couldn't stop staring at Eren, or that his thoughts were filled with the boy anytime he was gone.  Jean didn't need to be caught among his art, gaping at his work like an idiot.  

There were a thousand things about Eren that made Jean feel warm inside.  Eren talked in his sleep, loud enough that Jean could hear him in the hallway.  Picked things up off the floor with his toes.  Didn't even brush his hair, at all.  Just combed it with his fingers, and Jean wanted to do it for him.  Wanted to feel the russet strands under his hands.  Press his face to them, see what they smelled like.  It wasn't that they never butted heads, because they did, almost every day.  Jean didn't clean up after himself.  Eren used all the hot water in the shower.  They had opposite tastes in food, and when one of them cooked, the other inevitably said it tasted like shit.

Jean's movies were terrible.  His video games were stupid.  His clothes made him look like a 'fucking hipster barista' and the music he listened to was garbage.  Jean didn't think Eren had any room to talk, especially where his taste in music was concerned.

If he had to listen to Eren blast the Ramones at full volume in the middle of the night one more time, he might just lose his shit.

In spite of all that, or maybe because of it, Jean knew it was hopeless.  It had only been a few weeks, but he was falling for Eren, and hard.  The sound of his voice made something go loose in Jean's chest, and the way Eren stumbled around in the morning half asleep was so adorable, Jean couldn't bear to watch.  That tanned skin drew his eyes, and Jean had to force them away, because it wasn't his to look at.

Eren was still Levi's.  Even if the man was dead, it didn't matter.  His face filled Eren's room.  His sweaters hung in Eren's closet.  

His ring on Eren's finger.  His ghost in Eren's mind.  Every part of his life filled up with someone who wasn't even there, leaving no room for anyone else.

Jean had never wanted a person like this before, so fiercely he could feel it in his bones.  So of course it was someone he didn't have a chance with.  He wasn't even surprised anymore.

He'd wandered into Eren's room without meaning to, staring at a painting on the brunet's easel that he hadn't seen before.  A forest scene, with a pond filling up half the canvas, crystal clear and shining.  The trees surrounding it were dead and lifeless, leaves piled up on the ground.  A lone figure crouched next to the water, head in his hands, and with those strands the color of copper, it had to be Eren.  The water's reflection showed those same barren trees full of leaves and flowers.  Instead of Eren being alone, the pond's surface showed him with Levi.  His head resting in the brunet's lap, fingers reaching up to touch Eren's lips, a smile playing out over them.  There was so much life in the still water, and so much grief in Eren's image on the bank, Jean had a hand pressing at his chest.  It hurt to look at, and he was grateful when his phone rang, snapping him out of his reverie.  Armin's name flashed across the screen, and he swiped his finger across the screen.

"Hey, where you at?  Thought you'd be home already."

"Nah, it got busy, and I can't seem to get away.  Lemme talk to Eren, he's not answering his phone."

"Eren's not here.  I mean, his car's here, but not him."  There was a long moment of silence on the other end, followed by muffled profanity.

"Jean, I need you to do me a favor.  This is my fault, but I can't leave for another few hours, if then." 

"What do you need?"

"I need you to go to the cemetery and bring Eren home."

.......................................................................

Jean had his doubts about Eren's whereabouts, but when he pulled up to the cemetery and weaved through the stones, it turned out Armin was right.  Eren was there, passed out on the ground atop a grave in nothing but a hoodie as snow began to fall around him.  The white powder already dusted the stones, though it had not started to accumulate yet, Eren had to be freezing.  Jean's breath fogged in the darkness as he made his way towards Eren's prone figure, shivering at the mere sight of him. Eren was curled up on his side in the fetal position, hands fisted at his chest, trembling from the cold. Jean cast a glance at the tombstone as he crouched down, though there wasn't any point, really. He knew whose it was without looking.

_Levi Ackerman_  
_No Regrets_

"Well, that's bullshit, isn't it?" Jean let his eyes fall on Eren, reaching to run his fingers through the snowy strands that had fallen in the boy's face. His voice was a whisper, though Jean wasn't sure why. It wasn't as though there was anyone around to hear him. "I'm sure you regret leaving this mess behind." Eren's cheeks were pink, whether from the temperature or the booze in his system, Jean didn't know. He shook Eren's shoulder hard, tugging at his arm. "Hey. Eren. Hey." After a few minutes those bright eyes blinked open, sleepy and confused. "Hey buddy, we gotta go. Get you out of the cold, all right?" Eren let himself be tugged into a sitting position, weaving in place, and then with Jean's help he stumbled to his feet.

"What're ya doin' here?" Eren's voice was slurred and rough, and as Jean put an arm around him, he could smell whiskey on his breath.

"Came to get you. Time to go home, 'kay?" Eren nodded, again and again, and they turned towards the car awkwardly.

" 'kay." The pair had barely taken a step before Eren lurched away with a shout. "Wait!" He threw himself at the gravestone, pressing his head into the top of it and closing his eyes. "Bye, Levi. Happy birthday."

They made their way back home, Eren falling in and out of sleep in the passenger seat of Jean's car. Once they got inside, Eren frowned at the empty house, glancing around.

"Armin s'not home yet?" Jean shook his head, leading the drunken boy towards Armin's room, only to have Eren cling to the door frame and refuse to budge. He looked over at Jean, green eyes soft and unsure, and when he spoke he sounded lost. "C'n I sleep with you? I don' wanna be alone."

 _Oh, fuck. No._ That was a terrible idea, really. 

But then Jean was leading Eren into his room and pulling off the boy's shoes and jacket. Changing into his pajamas and climbing in beside him, pulling the blankets up around them both with a sigh. Eren threw his arms around Jean, head on his chest and clinging to him tight, just as he always did with Armin.

Jean was not Armin, though, and this was going to _hurt_ later. He pressed his face into Eren's hair and inhaled, willing the scent into his nose, because he wanted to remember it. The warm weight of Eren's body on his, hot even through his clothes. The steady cadence of his breathing. The fierce clutching of those hands. Stolen, all of it, because Eren was not his.

No matter how much Jean wanted him to be.


	4. Sleep

Even with his eyes closed, even through the throbbing in his skull, Eren could tell something wasn’t quite right when he woke up. He was sprawled out across Armin’s chest, which was not weird in and of itself, but it did not feel as it should. There was too much of the boy, and Eren did not feel like he was about to crush Armin underneath like he usually did. The body beneath him was solid in a way Armin’s was not, the hands laying flat against his back too big. Eren took a deep breath, and even the scent was wrong, woodsy and heavy where Armin’s was light and intangible. Eren blinked up at the figure he rested on, and once his eyes stopped swimming with sleep and hangover, he froze in place.

Jean.

He was not in bed with Armin, but with Jean, and Eren could not remember exactly how he’d gotten there. It wasn’t as though he was worried anything sexual had happened between the two of them, they were both still clothed after all. But the intimacy of sleeping together that way was almost more frightening, and he felt every muscle in his body tensing. He needed to get out of there before Jean woke up. Jean surely remembered Eren crawling into bed with him the previous night, but that did not mean it would be anything but awkward when he woke up to find his roommate snuggled up against him. Eren started to move, trying to ease out from under Jean’s arms, only to have them go tight around him. Jean mumbled out somnolent words into Eren’s hair, breath hot in the strands.

“Just stay here. Don’t make it weird. You’re really warm.” Eren went impossibly stiffer, hiding his face in Jean’s chest, wishing he could disappear entirely.

“I’m sorry if I… was a pain in the ass, or…” Eren trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence in the way it needed to be finished. 

Sorry if I sobbed on you like a child, or talked to my dead husband as if he was in the room with us, or acted like a drunk asshole in a god damned graveyard. But Jean did not seem troubled, just shrugged and began moving his hands soothingly up and down Eren’s spine. Electricity trailed after his fingertips even through Eren’s clothes, and it was hard not to arch into the touch.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Jus’ go back to sleep Eren.” It seemed like Jean was prepared to do exactly that when Eren shifted in his arms, cringing as the movement made his head pulse with heat and agony. His bladder was painfully full, and his mouth tasted like dirt and copper. Eren definitely needed more sleep, but he also needed aspirin and a toilet and a toothbrush.

“Uhh, I really have to pee first, though.” Jean grunted, letting his arms fall to his sides as though he intended to let Eren go, albeit begrudgingly. When Eren moved to get out of bed, though, Jean fisted a hand in Eren’s shirt and looked at him through half lidded eyes.

“Come back when you’re done.” 

He did not phrase it like a question, and Eren had a hard time holding his stare. It was soft, almost sad, and the expression sat strangely on Jean’s face. Eren found himself nodding before he even considered whether or not he should actually do such a thing, and Jean’s mouth twisted into what could maybe be a smile before his eyes fell closed again. He dropped his hand from Eren’s shirt, curling it up by his face, looking childish and relaxed. It took a few moments for Eren to realize he was staring at Jean’s face, brows furrowed, lip sunk between his teeth. He climbed carefully off the bed, forcing his steps slow when they wanted to come too fast, when they wanted Eren to run across the house as though he was being chased by something.

Chased by what, Eren didn’t know. Closeness to another person? He had that closeness with Armin, though, and it did not make him feel panicked and uncertain. Did not make his face want to heat up pink, or his hands come together to twist with nerves.

It’s different with Jean.

It really wasn’t, though. Or it shouldn’t have been. Maybe he had not known Jean nearly as long as he’d known Armin, but they were friends all the same. Eren spent more time with Jean lately than he did Armin, long hours at the hospital keeping him away. 

Jean doesn’t look at you like Armin does.

Eren paused as he brushed his teeth, toothbrush hanging between his lips. When he picked up the motions they were slower, thoughts curling unwelcome in his mind. Jean didn’t look at Eren the way Armin did. There was more there, and Eren wasn’t sure if he did not know what it was, or did not want to recognize it. Afraid to admit what he wasn’t prepared to deal with, shoving it down somewhere it could not hurt him. He rinsed his mouth out with cold water, downing a couple of aspirin afterwards, and when he turned around he startled at the sight of Levi. Almost ran into him, not that it would have mattered, but he staggered backwards all the same. Instincts telling him that Levi was real, even as he knew better.

“He looks at you like I did, and you damn well know it, love.” Eren hissed in surprise, glaring at Levi.

Glaring at himself, really, his own mind surging up in order to force the brunet to face reality. It was ironic that a figment of his imagination could make Eren address his problems more directly, and he wanted to shake himself. He sidestepped Levi and went into the bathroom, baring his teeth as he whispered out a reply.

“He does not.” Levi was already in the bathroom when Eren entered. Sitting on the counter top next to the sink, one knee cocked up on its surface, the other dangling free. 

“Does sooooo….” It came out teasing and singsong, and the wry smile on Levi’s face would have been torture for Eren, normally.

Right then he sort of wanted to smack it, and he emptied his bladder in silence, ignoring Levi. He washed his hands, pausing with one hand on the doorknob, sighing. Eren turned towards Levi then, brows coming together, mouth grimacing.

“Does he really look at me that way?” Asking himself, really, unsure if he wanted a answer.

Levi only knew what Eren knew. Only saw what Eren saw. Only realized the things Eren himself was already aware of, but did not want to recognize. Levi bit his bottom lip, nodding with a pleased grin on his face, as though he was immeasurably happy about the development. Then he stage whispered, eyes wide, too many teeth in his smile.

“He likes you.”

Fuck. Warmth coiled fresh in Eren’s guts at the thought, heart beating faster behind his ribs, air shivering inside his lungs.

Jean likes me? 

It seemed both obvious and unbelievable, and Eren could not deal with the idea right then. Not with his head aching and his legs jittery and stomach roiling under the influence of his hangover. He would sleep, and he would eat, and then maybe, fucking maybe, he would let himself think about it.

Eren flicked water at Levi’s apparition before leaving the bathroom. Levi did not follow, and Eren stopped in his own bedroom to change into pajama pants and a clean t-shirt before steeling himself. Part of him wanted to just crawl into his own bed, despite the fact that he only ever slept there to take naps. Then Jean’s face surged up in his mind, sleepy and sad, looking at Eren from his pillow.

“Come back when you’re done.”

Eren gritted his teeth, rolling his shoulders and taking a deep breath.

“Don’t be a fucking coward, Jaeger.”

Eren was many, many things, not all of them good. But after losing Levi, he wasn’t sure he was capable of being afraid of anything. What was there left to lose?

What’s left of your heart, a tiny voice whispered, but Eren ignored it. 

When he padded back into the room, Jean cracked one eye open. His mouth twitched, and Eren was almost certain Jean was fighting down a smile. Eren hesitated for just a moment, standing beside Jean’s bed, but then thought fuck it. He flopped down next to his roommate and rolled over, facing away from Jean.

There now, that wasn’t so hard was it?

Then Jean moved close behind him, throwing an arm around Eren’s waist, face pressed behind his ear. Eren’s heart stuttered wild in his chest, and he was glad Jean couldn’t see his face, because he could feel the heat in it. Jean pulled the blankets up over them without looking, the half assed tugging leaving their feet uncovered, but he made no move to fix it. Just spoke low, in a voice full of gravel and sleep, right against Eren’s hair.

“Okay?”

Eren did not trust his own voice, so he nodded a couple of times, and Jean grunted in answer. Tightened his hold just a little, nuzzling almost imperceptibly into Eren’s hair.

“Merry Christmas, Jaeger.”

Fuck. It was going to be impossible to go back to sleep with his breathing gone ragged and his heart thundering in his skin and his stomach both too empty and too full.

But then his lids fell closed, and Jean was warm against his back. It had been an eternity since Eren felt this way. Safe, and wanted. Different from how he felt with Armin. Not necessarily better, but it was something he’d missed without realizing it.

Jean’s arms felt like home, and Eren didn’t have time to be troubled by it before he was lost to his dreams.


	5. Close

The first time Armin found Eren tucked away in Jean’s bed, when he finally came on late Christmas morning after falling asleep at the hospital, he didn’t even seem surprised.  Jean had looked up from where he was nuzzled sleepily into Eren’s hair to find Armin staring at them with an impossibly fond expression on his face.  Like a parent whose children were being adorable, and he’d covered his mouth with his hand, and backed out of the room, and never said a word about it.

 

Weeks later, and he still never said anything, even though Eren slept there every night.  It wasn’t just Armin who was suspiciously silent on the matter.  Neither Jean nor Eren mentioned it, or acted as though anything unusual was going on.  The only time it had been brought up at all was the very next night, when Eren had padded into Jean’s room dressed in pajamas and a worn out t-shirt, a question in his eyes.

 

Jean had folded down the blankets for him, and Eren crawled beneath them without a word, and had been doing so every night since.  He listened to Eren snore, and fought against Eren’s wild kicking to keep the covers over them both, and felt more rested than he had in fucking years.  

 

Despite waking up each morning with his arm dead and useless from being pinned beneath Eren’s head, and his sheets wet with drool.

 

Jean would’ve been happy if their sleeping arrangements were all that had changed, but it was more than that.  They ate breakfast together whenever Jean’s work schedule did not conflict, and more often than not ended up helping each other cook dinner.  Eren put too much seasoning on the food.  He overcooked the vegetables, and undercooked the meat, and seemed to think that every meal needed potatoes of some sort.  Spinach was a crime against humanity, apparently, and it was an ordeal to get him to eat salad unless it was drowned viciously in dressing.

 

Eren was awful, really, and Jean wanted to shake him.

 

Wanted to kiss him even more.  Settled for breathing him in at night, and memorizing the lines of his face every morning when the light was shining soft through the windows of their room.

 

Learned to live with the ache in his chest and the itch in his palms that would only be soothed by taking something he had not earned. 

 

Jean sat too close to him on the couch and scrolled the music on his phone and watched all the awful movies he liked while Eren laughed too loud at the unfunny jokes and ruined the endings before they even started.  He showed Eren the photos he took, putting up only the most pitiful excuses for defense when his instagram was brutally mocked, and preened unabashedly any time Eren complimented his work.

 

Eren would mix up their clothes in laundry sometimes, and end up wearing one of Jean’s shirts to bed, fabric tight on his shoulders but too long at his waist.  And Jean would quietly choke on air, and try not to trip over his own feet, and even though the sleeves were stretched out when he got them back he didn’t complain.

 

If Jean took them out of the dirty clothes from time to time and put them on while they still smelled like Eren, no one seemed to notice.

 

Eren made everything more vivid, just by existing.

 

Then there were days when Eren was lost.  Miles away, wordless with pain hovering somewhere behind his eyes and his whole body tensed into itself until he was smaller than should be possible.  Eren wasn’t supposed to be folded away into a hushed, muted version of himself.  Living with him, Jean had realized just how much of Eren there really was, in a way that had nothing to do with his size.  

 

Watching him vanish was agony, all those bright shades of him washed out to gray, and Jean always wanted to reach out and touch him.  Pull Eren into his arms, or hold his hand.  Anything to let Eren know that he was there for him, if Eren wanted him to be.  

 

Jean didn’t want to destroy whatever the fragile thing between them was by pushing too hard, but he also didn’t want Eren to have to suffer by himself.  Sometimes people needed space to grieve, without someone right there watching them fall apart.  Eren had been living in that solitude for a long time, though.

 

So when, a few days before the spring semester started, he came home from work to hear Eren’s breath hitching wetly through the closed door of his room, Jean couldn’t just pretend he didn’t notice.  Eren had nightmares, and bad days, and retreated into himself more often than Jean liked, but he never fucking  _ cried. _  Not where anyone else could hear or see, anyway.

 

Jean turned the knob to find it unlocked, and when the door swung open Eren was sitting cross legged on the floor.  There were a few bright patches of color on his face, different shades of blue and green paint smeared here and there.  On his clothes, in his hair.  The heels of his palms were pressed into his eyes, and he leaned forward, hunching down into a ball.  He wasn’t making a lot of noise, but his breathing was shuddering and ragged, the unmistakable cadence of grief.  

 

Jean wasn’t sure Eren even realized he was there.  When he sank down behind Eren he startled briefly, glancing up in surprise to find Jean so near.  His eyes were wild, and shining, and he looked at Jean with something like desperation.

 

Something dark, and shivering.  Sharp, and endless.   Made of glass and catching fire and washing away at sea.

 

Jean laid his palms on Eren’s shoulders tentatively, unsure if his touch would be welcomed or not.

 

“If you want me to leave, I will.”

 

Eren blinked, and shook his head, and melted into Jean like liquid.  He turned until his face was buried in Jean’s chest, curling up against him.  Jean hugged him tighter, one hand fisting in paint matted locks, the other wrapping around Eren to pull him close.

 

There still wasn’t any sound to accompany Eren’s crying.  He quaked silently in Jean’s lap, rocked gently back and forth, the apartment too still around them.  Jean pressed a kiss into hair without thinking, and Eren relaxed further into his touch.

 

And Eren broke into pieces, and Jean held him together, and tried not to fall apart.

  
  



End file.
